‘Someone,’ he murmured, ‘someone, anyone... help me!’ He reached the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He knocked on it, gingerly, as if hoping someone on the other side might open it without being put to too much trouble.

A hand took his arm.

‘Please sit down, Master Imus,’ the officer said.

Master Imus started rather badly and recoiled with such surprise he banged his elbows and the back of his head against the door. The officer, who was not burned in any way, was standing in front of him.

‘Master Imus?’

Master Imus began to shake. Then he started to hiccup. He continued to stare at the officer.

‘What did you see?’ the officer asked.

‘You were on fire,’ replied Master Imus. ‘You caught fire. The fire burned you until you were dead!’

‘Master Imus?’

Johan Imus repeated his previous commentary, this time forcing his voice to actually make some sounds.

‘Ah,’ said the officer, ‘an illusion, that’s all, necessary to the work.’

‘Necessary?’ asked Master Imus. ‘Necessary how? To what work?’

‘To my work.’ The officer gestured towards the chair Imus had vacated. He paused. His tone became more sympathetic. ‘I apologise. I have shaken you, haven’t I?’

Master Imus shrugged and managed a small, dry laugh. ‘Indeed. I have never seen a man combust before. I have never even seen a man die. How was the illusion done? What was the point of frightening me?’

The officer’s sympathetic air melted. ‘I’m not about to answer any questions, sir. All the questions will be mine.’

There were a great many of them. They came at Master Imus so rapidly, he became rather flustered. The officer asked him the names of his parents, and his votation numeral, and inquired of his political leanings. He asked Master Imus to account for his whereabouts on certain dates stretching back two years. He asked if Master Imus could operate a cogitator, if he held keys to the auction house premises, if he had ever been off-world, and where his family originated from. Master Imus attempted to answer as best he could. Sometimes a new question came at him before the last answer had been completely recited. Is there a record of public misdemeanours in your family? How long have you resided at your current address? Can you detail your diet in general terms? Are you receiving medicae treatment for any ailment? Have you ever been to Ausolberg? How many languages do you speak? How many languages do you read? Do you dream? What do you dream about? How often do you attend templum services? Have you ever taken the Standard Psykana Test? Have you ever been in trouble before?

‘Am I in trouble now?’ asked Master Imus.

He was made to wait in the anteroom again. Night had fallen. The lamp, almost out of promethium, fluttered valiantly.